


Experimental Attraction

by dreamsofdramione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hermione Teaches Sex Ed to the Students, Hogwarts Professors, Lust Potion/Spell, Potions Accident, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26415190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofdramione/pseuds/dreamsofdramione
Summary: A Potions mishap opens Hermione’s eyes to Neville in an unexpected way.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom
Comments: 21
Kudos: 235
Collections: Best of NevMione, Fuck Your Gender Roles





	Experimental Attraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [granger_danger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/granger_danger/gifts).



> Happy, Happy Birthday, M!   
> I hope you have the absolute best birthday possible. You deserve it. <3  
> I've never written Nevmione before but this plunny hit me with a force and demanded to be written so I hope you love it as much as I do!

  
  


“Neville, does it feel a bit warm in here to you?” Hermione pulled at her collar and sucked in a breath. Warm was an understatement; the room felt like it was climbing degrees by the second. 

“Nope.” 

Noticing a slight pink tint to his cheeks, Hermione furrowed her brow.

“Are you sure? It seems you’ve got some colour in your cheeks.”

“Uh-huh.” When he swallowed, she tried not to track the long line of his throat with the motion. 

_Merlin, it was getting hot._

“It’s okay if you are. I know I’m feeling rather… overheated.” _And strangely aroused._

_Wait. What?_

Hermione’s eyes widened with sudden realization. 

“Oh, bugger.” With a flick of her wrist, she cast a diagnostic charm around the room, watching the swirls of magic settle into a familiar pattern. “Just as I suspected. The cooling charms still seem to be intact which means this is the result of…” She glanced over at the bubbling cauldron, watching wisps of smoke snake around the rim. Sighing, she cast a basic diagnostic on herself and watched as her pulse thumped hard and a shimmering light danced in the air in front of her. Hermione grabbed her parchment and began scribbling down her observations. 

  * _Body temperature rising_


  * Flushed cheeks


  * Heightened senses


  * Quickened pulse



She paused, looking back over to Neville. “It’s important that we note all of the side effects. I’d hoped we could substitute the dried Belladonna for fresh to make the process more cost-effective for the students in P.U.S.S.—”

Neville coughed so loud he had to beat a fist against his chest. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“Positive Understanding of Sexual Situations: P.U.S.S. Honestly, I don’t understand why everyone seems to find the name so revolting. I wanted to teach the students a way to brew their own contraceptive potions next week with ingredients that could be found right here at Hogwarts, but it seems the fresh Belladonna is having rather,” she cleared her throat, “unintended effects on us both. Do you mind telling me exactly what you’re feeling?”

Neville looked positively terrified. “Erm… sure.” He scratched at the back of his neck in that awkward way that reminded her of the boy she’d known nearly all her life, the same boy she’d befriended that very first day on the Hogwarts Express. 

His _physical_ reaction was obvious enough. 

He was… _glistening._

Which sounded rather stupid in her own mind, but no other word seemed to fit the image of him, sweat beading along his brow, and a sheen covering every inch of toned, sun-tanned skin. The greenhouses had been more than a little kind to his figure, she thought. He looked nothing short of delici— 

_Wait. What?_

Hermione shook the thought from her head. 

“Go on, then.” Waving her quill in the air, she waited.

“I’m um… I’m rather warm, yes. And I um… Honestly, Hermione, I don’t really know how to say this.” The former pink tint had deepened into a rich blush that splashed across the high of his cheeks. It was more than a little flattering. “I feel um…”

“Aroused?” Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears and she had to clear her throat to gain a semblance of control over her wandering thoughts. 

“Yeah.” Neville nodded. “Yeah, that.”

“Right, okay.” She scribbled down another line.

  * _Sense of arousal._



“Anything else?” 

A strange sound worked its way loose from Neville’s throat. “I um… My—my thoughts. I’m… I can’t…” he carded a hand carelessly through his hair, a pleading look on his face. 

Hermione set her quill down and turned to approach him, one of her oldest friends, but with every step she took, he took an equal one back. 

“Neville? Are you alright?” 

“Yeah.” Husky and low, his voice sent a shiver snaking up her spine. “Yeah. Fine. I just—Can you just—Erm… Do you mind staying a fair bit away?”

“Oh.” Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She quickly returned to her parchment and quill and scribbled down a few more notes. “I think it’s safe to say this is the result of a small miscalculation. It appears we let,” she took a deep breath, willing the warmth pooling low in her belly to ebb. “It appears that the fumes from this most recent batch have unintended side effects.” Tapping the quill against her chin, Hermione thought about what must have gone wrong. She scratched a few more calculations on the parchment before picking it up and turning to face him again. “What does the room smell like to you?”

When Neville didn’t immediately answer, Hermione tried another approach. “For me,” she started, taking another tentative step in his direction, “it smells like… well, it smells like someone just shagged in here.” Neville nearly choked. “From your reaction, I’m assuming you think the same?”

Shifting from one foot to the other, Neville nodded as he stared at the floor. “Yeah, yup. It uhm… That would be accurate.”

Objectively, Hermione knew Neville was handsome, attractive in an unassuming way. He leaned and lumbered from his towering height, as though his extremities were a few inches too long. With his sleeves carelessly rolled up to his elbows, she could see the chords of thick muscles in his forearms. The sight was… _enlightening._

_Huh?_

Swallowing against the scratch in her throat, she finally approached him again. “Neville, listen, I—” 

Her breath caught when he finally looked up. His typically hazel eyes were clouded with something she couldn’t quite place. She watched his muscled chest rise and fall with each laboured breath. 

She suddenly felt… _dizzy._

Hermione Granger wasn’t the type of girl to swoon when a handsome wizard looked her way, but she couldn’t help the way she wobbled on weak knees at the sight of Neville Longbottom, flush with arousal. 

“Hermione are you—”

Her eyelashes fluttered and she panted out a breath just before she felt herself reach forward and plant her palms against his chest. It was solid under the tip so her fingers and she wanted to trace the lines of chiseled muscle beneath the thick fabric of his woolen jumper. In fact, all she’d have to do was reach down and slip beneath the hem, drag her hands up— 

“Oh!” She jumped back, shaking her head and turning on the spot. “I’m sorry that I—”

“‘s fine.” 

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to turn around again. The farther away she was from him the better. “I’ve made note that the fresh Belladonna shouldn’t be used so we’ll have to try and track down some—” She paused, pushing a moan back down her throat as a firm hand landed on her shoulder. She clenched her thighs. It felt like her skin was on fire. “We’ll need to track down some dried Belladonna and give this another go. I’d say we could just dry out some stores from the greenhouse but I know using any magic can weaken the constitution of the veins of the plant and if I’m not mistaken, that’s what determines the potency. I think if we can still—Mmm.” Hermione felt her entire body convulse. If she’d had her wits about her, she might have had the decency to be mortified by the action, but all she could think about was his thick fingers digging into her collarbone, causing that delicious ache, as he squeezed her shoulder. She thought about what it would feel like in other— 

“Should we go to the infirmary?”

She blinked back into awareness, biting her lip so hard she could taste the coopery tang on her tongue. “Huh?” 

“Madame Pomfrey is probably the last witch I’d like to see right now, but she might have an antidote, yeah?”

Hermione straightened her spine, pulling at the last thread of rational thought she could find. “Oh, right. Um… No, I don't think so. Until we can figure out exactly what we’ve made, which I do think is possible, I’m not sure anyone can be of much help. I have a working theory. You see this must be the result of inhaling the fumes. That scent permeated everything right before I felt the first wave of… Well, right before this all started.” She paused to take a deep breath, attempting to get it all out before she did something strange like moan his name or climb him like a tree, both of which seemed like a natural reaction in her current state. In fact, neither seemed like an all-around bad idea. His hand was still firm where it cupped her shoulder and she reached up to toy with his fingers. “That or—There’s a chance that it could…” Breathless, she twisted around to face him, intoxicated by how close they were, how warm he felt, how firm his muscles were beneath her wandering… 

_Oh, bugger. It was happening again._

Hermione dashed to the door so fast she was surprised she hadn’t tripped over her own two feet. She didn’t even look at him again as she said, “We should both rest up. We’ll reconvene tomorrow before breakfast to see if the potion has worked its way out of our systems. Haveagoodnight.”

* * *

In the privacy of her chambers, Hermione felt like she was going mad. 

She’d shed every stitch of cloth covering her body and buried her hands between her legs as soon as she was able. Sprawled across the cool fabric of her sheets, she shut her eyes and let her fingers trace the sodden seam of her cunt. She blamed the side effects of the potion for the vision behind her eyelids. 

Dark hair. Hazel eyes. Long, thick fingers. 

Neville’s deep baritone echoed in her ears, and she moaned at the memory of hearing it just a short time before. How she could find his voice alone so arousing was beyond her, but their potions mishap appeared to be more than a little potent. 

Her fingers flexed and flicked, working in, out, and around her swollen cunt. She imagined another set of digits leading the same motions, and before long, she shuddered though her release with his name on her lips. 

* * *

“Odd.” Hermione cast the diagnostic charm on both herself and Neville again. _Unremarkable._ “Hm… Everything appears to be rather normal but your pulse is still a little fast. Are you warm?” 

Neville nodded.  
  
“Interesting. Would you mind looking at me?” Angling the end of her lit wand at Neville’s face, she tried to find some explanation. “It appears your pupils have also returned to normal. They’re currently a tad contracted but that’s to be expected in reaction to the light.” She slid her wand back into the pocket of her robes and pulled out the same piece of parchment with the scrawled half-thoughts from the night before. “I took the liberty of recording my… um, _general_ reactions for several hours after the incident.” Unrolling the scroll of parchment, she pointed towards the bottom. “Would you mind taking a look at the observations and letting me know if you felt similar around the same times. It appears to be slowly working its way out of our systems, but I’m interested to know if it’s happening at the same rate.”

“Right.” Neville scanned the parchment. “It all looks… yeah… um, about the same for me.”

Hermione arched a brow. “That’s it? Just the same?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Neville nodded in that nervous way again, swallowing heavily and not meeting her eyes. “The same.”

“And now?”

“Now?” 

“Yes, now.” She leveled him with a look. “Do you still feel the effects?”

“I dont—I don’t know.”

“Right, well then, let’s try something else.” Hermione leaned in slowly. “Tell me if proximity heightens anything for you.”

There was only a step between them, and when she took it, she watched him pull in a gulp of air. “Yeah. Yes. Proximity is… yes.” 

“Same,” she breathed, looking up through thick lashes to find that unfamiliar sheen of _something_ in his eyes. “And touch?”

Neville choked on a cough before she even reached out for him. When her palm slid along his arm, trailing down towards his fingertips, she already knew the answer.

“Touch. Yes. Yeah.” He pulled his hand away and Hermione snapped back to reality.

“Sorry, I—Anyway, there’s one more thing I’d like to ask if that’s okay. Do you currently find me attractive?” She thought she heard Neville whimper, but she couldn’t be certain. “You see, last night, while I was beginning to feel the slightest bit… different, I couldn’t help but—well, I couldn’t help but think _you_ were rather attractive. I mean in an academic way, of course.” Shaking her head, she continued: “It was… It was obvious that I found myself _attracted_ to… to _you,_ which is a feeling I’m not wholly familiar with so I assumed it was part of—”

“Yeah.” Neville took a deep breath, staring straight at her; this time the glint in his eyes was unmistakable. She didn’t even need to ask him what he felt right then. She understood. “My answer would be yes.”

“Right. Okay.” Hermione took a short step back, letting the fog clear from her mind as she jotted down a few more quick notes. “I have a rather busy day ahead of me, but there’s a block of time just after lunch, if you’re free of course, when we could reassess. If the potion hasn’t worn off by dinnertime, I’m tempted to take our research up to the infirmary and ask Madame Pomfrey if she has any ideas why it still seems to be lingering in our systems despite not showing up in the diagnostics beyond slightly heightened vitals.”

It was silent for a moment while Hermione tucked away the parchment packed with various scribbles. She glanced up to see Neville with his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes glued to the ceiling.

She blinked and looked away, tugging awkwardly at the hem of her jumper. She was just so _warm._ “Does that work for you, too?”

“Huh?” Low and husky, his voice had the same effect as the night before, slipping over her skin like a physical presence and pricking the hair on the back of her neck. “Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah, I have a free period just after the Third Years. Say around one p.m.?”

Hermione blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and nodded. “Yeah. Yes. Right. See you then.”

* * *

“And you say both yourself and Professor Longbottom are feeling the same way?”

Hermione nodded as Madame Pomfrey cast a litany of complicated diagnostic spells she’d never seen before. “I ran a basic vitals spell and it appeared only our heart rates and body temperatures were a bit elevated. As noted, in the beginning, there was a pearlescent sheen on the results from the potion’s effects but neither check today has yielded any sign of it. The parchment has it all recorded if you’d like to look over it again. I can also answer any—”

“That won’t be necessary, dear.” She hummed in what sounded like interest as Hermione patiently awaited the results. “And you say the only thing you and Professor Longbottom changed was substituting the dried Belladonna for fresh in the contraceptive potion?”

“Correct.”

Madame Pomfrey hummed again. “Well then. I believe I know what’s happened, Professor Granger.”

“You do?” Hermione sagged with relief. “Thank Merlin. I really should have come to you sooner. I guess part of me just expected that it would wear off and—”

“It did.” 

Hermione blinked. “Excuse me?”

“It did, Miss Granger. The potion appears to be completely out of your system. If I had to guess as to why you still seem to be affected by Professor Longbottom in such a”—the older witch glanced at the parchment with Hermione’s familiar scrawl—“uniquely _powerful_ way, I’d say it has nothing to do with your little mishap last night.”

“What?” Hermione was sure her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn’t seem to make it close. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

Madame Pomfrey laughed, swiping a careless hand through the air as she gathered her instruments. “I believe you do, dear girl. You are a most brilliant witch and no one would ever doubt your intelligence, but physical manifestations regarding matters of the heart don't require reason, do they? The ingredient mix-up would have created a rather potent aphrodisiac, yes, but much like the state of natural arousal, it would have dissipated before long. I would presume what you are feeling now has little to do with any fumes and more to do with your own personal desires.”

“Oh.” Warmth flooded Hermione’s cheeks. “Ooooh.” 

* * *

Hermione twisted the thick fabric of her jumper between nervous fingers. It was just Neville, there was no reason for her to be so anxious. She’d just relay Madame Pomfrey’s message then get on with her night. 

She could do this.

Lifting her first, she landed a few decisive raps on the door to Neville’s chambers. One beat passed, then two. She almost turned around to put it all on a piece of parchment to return later and slip under his door when she heard the sound of footsteps on the other side. 

Neville opened the door and Hermione’s breath did that annoying that again where it stopped right in her throat. 

He was standing there. 

_Shirtless._

Leaning against the heavy door and looking entirely too tempting for his own good—or hers for that matter. 

“Evening!” She tried to sound cheerful, but her voice was a bit breathless and she felt colour rise to her cheeks. “Do you have a few minutes to spare?” Neville nodded. “And would you mind… um, this might be easier if you put on a shirt.”

He looked down at his bare chest and scratched the back of his neck. “Right. Sorry. I’ll just—”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

* * *

“So, you see, she said that it should have worn off not long after we parted ways last night. Which was my original thought but then…” She trailed off, taking a sip of her tea. “Well, you know the rest.”

Neville shifted on the sofa, leaning forward to set his teacup down. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “So you mean to tell me that… all of that was just—”

“Yes.”

“Which means that—”

“Yep.” Hermione popped the last letter before she trapped her lip between her teeth and started playing with a loose thread on the sofa. 

“So…” He paused. Chancing a glance up at him, she waited for him to continue. “Right. So what you’re feeling is—is…”

“Yeah.”

“And what I’m feeling—”

“Correct.” She took a sip of her tea, willing her hand to stop shaking.

“Okay then.” 

Hermione resumed her earlier attentions on the frayed edges of his sofa, debating how long she should reasonably wait before darting out of there and pretending like this never happened. Once she’d opened that gate in her mind and allowed thoughts of him as someone other than one of her closest friends in, she couldn’t seem to push them back out. 

For two Gryffindors, neither of them appeared to be very brave at that moment. 

Neville was toying with his teacup and Hermoine was fiddling with a stray thread. It wasn’t like she was embarrassed, not after thinking through his mutual and matching reactions. They were two consenting adults, for Merlin’s sake. This shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Finding someone attractive and having a physical reaction to said attraction was normal, she reasoned, understandable even when she thought about the fact that it was largely brought to their immediate attention due to the untimely ingredient mistake— 

“Hermione, I—” 

She blinked, waiting with bated breath for him to say something else, but he remained silent. 

Finally, she decided to take the lead. “Well, this all seems rather silly now. Why don’t we—”

She was cut off by the press of his warm palm against the curve of her knee. It felt… intimate. 

“I guess what I need to know in all of this,” he took a deep breath, “and what I can’t stop wondering is… Well, do you feel—”

“Yes.” Her brain hadn’t even caught up to her mouth by the time she registered she’d spoken at all. Merlin, she didn’t even know his question, but the only answer she could think of for any reasonable possibility was yes. 

“I had no idea.” Neville shook his head in a way that made his unruly waves sway. “This is not at all how I would have planned—Not that—Not that I’d planned anything of the sort, really. Thought it wasn’t an option, to be honest—” His eyes widened when he realised what he’d just said. “Bugger. I’m no good at this. I just—”

Leaning in, she halted his stream of consciousness with a curious kiss. 

Truth was, Hermione wasn’t the best with this kind of stuff either. Their lips pressed together for a single second before she pulled back, glancing up to gauge his reaction. It was hard to read the look on Neville’s face, some mixture of nerves and relief tinged his tilted lips and his soft, sincere eyes. But she wasn’t afforded another moment to analyse it because his lips landed on hers again. No longer hesitant, he pressed himself forward, cupping her jaw with one hand and sliding the other up her thigh to bracket her hip. 

It was natural, really, the instinct to lay back against the couch and let Neville’s fit frame cage her against the cushions—comfortable to feel the weight of his form press down into the curves of her own. 

Hermione had expected a sort of leisure to the way Neville kissed, maybe a bit shy and tentative, much like he was more often than not, but his lips were sure and wicked and she had a hard time gulping in enough air between the long, languorous strokes of his tongue. 

“Neville,” she whispered, pushing up the hem of his t-shirt and scratching at the smooth texture of his skin. Hyper-sensitive and aching, she pushed her breasts up against his chest, running her nails along the juncture of his defined hips. 

“Gods, Hermione,” he panted as she laved the thin skin along the column of his throat. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Puffing out a breath, she arched up against his hips, savouring the steady pressure of his length nestled between her legs. 

Pulling at his jumper, she tugged it all the way off, and pushed him back just far enough to do the same with her shirt. When she reached around to unclasp her bra, Neville stopped her with a steady hand. He swallowed, letting a single finger skate along the strap and down her shoulder, over her collarbone, before dragging it against the swell of her breast. “Merlin, you’re gorgeous.” 

He palmed her chest and slipped a finger under the cup of her bra, teasing the hardened peak of her nipple. She could see the little love bites peppered along the column of his throat, spread out like freckles dotted across his shoulders. Seeing him decorated in discoloured dots the exact shape of her mouth, she felt the inexplicable urge to add more. 

Neville was a patient man. A man who took his time and dedicated himself to every pursuit. Much like his other endeavours, foreplay appeared to be a thing he wanted to pay careful consideration. His lips landed in the center of her breastbone, trailing to one side to suck a sensitive nipple into his mouth. Hermione moaned and canted her hips up at the contact, rewarded by the pressure of his erection pushing right back. 

As an adult, she’d never thought rubbing against the opposite sex while still clothed could be sexy. Such actions were reserved for the younger crowd, tripping up in the way everyone had with their first awkward encounters. But Neville made the friction of his cock feel like something of a revelation. Even through both of their layers, she could feel him twitch against her core.

Desperate for the real thing, without barriers or restraint, she reached between them and slipped her hand inside his trousers.

Neville Longbottom was more than simply well endowed. His cock felt heavy against her hand, hard and long and pulsing against her palm. She could feel every twitch as she curled her fingers around his length, and hear the hitch in his breath when she began to apply the slightest bit of pressure. She thought he said her name or some amalgamation of the syllables. She knew she needed _more._

“Neville,” she breathed, curling her legs around his hips. “I want you.”

Tweaking one of her nipples with a pressure that bordered dangerously close to pain, he groaned against her neck, before sinking his teeth into the swell of her shoulder and arching his hips into her hand. “Gods, I—I want you, too.”

It had been too long since Hermione had felt like this. She couldn't even remember the last time she’d let her carnal urges get the better of her more sound mind, at least not outside of her own chambers with nothing more than her hand for company. But she couldn’t deny the overwhelming need swelling inside of her, pushing out her impulse to think this through before diving off the edge of the cliff. 

There would be no coming back from this, that much she knew. 

Never again would she be able to look at Neville and _not_ think about the thick length of his cock buried in her cunt. 

Never again could she watch him pluck potions ingredients with those wickedly talented fingers and keep her mind from the memory actively burning itself in her brain of those same fingers playing with her body like his own personal toy. 

It was a bit of a blur, shedding their clothes and bumping into walls on the way to his bed at the back of his chambers. All she knew, when her back hit the blankets and her eyes locked on to his, was that this was happening—and even without the help of any sort of accidental aphrodisiac, there was literally nothing in the entire world that she wanted more right then. 

Hermione bit her lip when the soft bow of Neville’s mouth brushed against her cunt. She was positively drenched, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. He didn’t seem to mind either, lapping at her folds like a man possessed. Apparently there wasn’t a thing that Neville Longbottom wasn’t good at in the bedroom. While he’d tripped over his own two feet in their adolescence, he appeared to have complete and utter control over both his body and hers as an adult. 

He played her like an instrument, a steady stream of praise dripping from his lips between long strokes of his tongue.

_Gorgeous. Perfect. Good._

Every one of those words struck her with a force. She cried out in no time, arching off the bed and pressing her sex against his lips as he eased her through her first orgasm. When he wiped the evident arousal off his lips, Hermione licked her own at the sight. 

“Let me,” she said, when he scaled the length of the bed and settled next to her. 

Reaching down to return the favour, he merely pushed her hand away. “Next time.”

Their mouths met again in the mingle of persistent kisses, giving and taking from each other with every other breath. While Hermione was familiar with her fair share of sexual positions—being knowledgable enough to teach Sex Ed to young witches and wizards required a certain amount of research—she was surprised that Neville didn’t roll her onto her back or drag her up to her knees. Those were two of the most common positions, after all, according to every text she’d read on the subject _and_ her own personal experience. Instead, he stayed on his side, facing her and mirroring her position as he hooked a firm hand under her knee and pulled it over his hip. The head of his cock slid along her sodden curls and she felt a shock as it bumped against her oversensitive nub. 

Moaning, she canted her hips forward and soaked in the slight pressure of his cock sliding along her swollen lips. It was as though he was on a mission to prove that outercourse, too, could be enjoyable with the right partner. And it was. _Oh, it was._

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against her temple. She couldn’t even form a coherent thought, much less give him an answer. “Be a good girl and tell me _exactly_ what you want, Hermione.”

The shiver that sizzled down her spine was wholly unexpected. “I want…” She tried rocking her hips forward only for him to pull his back. Groaning, she moved again and was met with the same resistance. “I want you, Neville.”

“Is that all?” 

The notion of Neville asking for verbal direction was positively depraved. She’d never been very vocal in bed, but there was a first time for everything. 

Her cheeks burned from her blush as she buried her head in the curve of his neck. “All of you,” she whispered. He rewarded her with the press of his hips again. “I want you inside me. _Please.”_

If someone had told her that she would be begging to be fucked by none other than Neville Longbottom only a few days before, she would have laughed them off, but still buzzing from her first orgasm and teetering on the brink of another from nothing more than his teasing ministrations, she was happy to be wrong. 

Sinking into her slowly, he hissed into her throat as she scratched gouges against his shoulders. From this angle, she could feel every inch as he sank deeper into her throbbing cunt.

They found an easy rhythm when he pulled her knee higher above his hip and gripped the swell of her backside hard enough to bruise. He directed their motions, driving into her with decisive strokes. 

“Mmm… I’m cl—close.” She could barely get the words out as she heaved in another breath. Tingling from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, she knew she was seconds away from tipping over that ledge and letting her release consume her. All it would take—

Neville swiped his thumb over her clit and she careened off the edge, moaning his name as she let the wave of desire flood her veins. 

The pulsing in her eardrums slowed to a dull roar before Neville captured her lips in a searing kiss. The tang of her earlier release was still present on his tongue, but she didn’t mind. He pumped into her one, two, three more times before she felt the warmth of his release. 

Neither could seem to catch their breath. The air in the room was thick, palpable, and seasoned with the scent of their coupling. 

When she finally formed a coherent thought, she blinked back into awareness. “Neville?” 

He hummed, tightening his grip on her hip as he pulled back and let his cock slip free, leaving a wet trail along her thigh in its wake. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Half-lidded and heavy, his eyes met hers. “Anything.”

“Do you recognize the smell?”

Quirking a brow, he just stared at her for a moment until she watched realization settle on his features. “Do you think—?”

“I do.” Hermione nodded, excited at the implications of their accidental discovery.

“I think the fumes from the potion we brewed by accident might have some sort of divination properties or, or, or maybe it simply reacts differently based on someone’s desires. What if it’s intuitive?” She nearly squealed with excitement. “Different still, what if it has some way of tapping into the chemical make-up of the person who smells it like—”

“—Amortentia.”

“Yeah.” She sat up fully, pulling the sheet against her chest as she scrambled off the side of the bed. “Let me just grab my notes and—”

Neville’s laugh echoed around the room and she stopped dead in her tracks. “What?”

He shook his head. “Oh, absolutely nothing. Just think you’re rather adorable when you get all worked up and now I can actually say that to you.”

“Oh.” Hermione blushed, which should have felt silly considering she’d quite literally just had his cock buried inside her cunt, but she couldn’t help the heat seeping onto her cheeks. 

Neville threw his legs over the side of the bed and searched the room for his clothes while Hermione pulled the parchment from the pocket of her robes. Just as she started scribbling down some calculations, trying to connect the source of the potion’s intuitive nature, she felt firm hands land on her hips and a chin press into her shoulder. 

He planted a kiss on her shoulder then nuzzled into her neck. “So, does this mean we have more experiments to look forward to?”

A smile curved on her lips and she set the quill down, turning around and sliding her arms around his waist. Rising on her tiptoes she whispered against his lips, “Loads.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to my lovely beta who talked through the plot with me, cheered me on the whole way, _and_ made time to edit this for me despite my own muse taking her sweet time to produce it. [PacificRimbaud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacificRimbaud/pseuds/PacificRimbaud) you are the best and I appreciate you. <3
> 
> Come find me on tumblr [@dreamsofdramione](https://dreamsofdramione.tumblr.com)!
> 
> THANK YOU ALL for reading! Comments & kudos **always appreciated!**


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